Having been born at the twilight of Fall one year the beast had never really cottoned to the warm weather. Fancying himself strictly an indoor recluse this had never posed much of a problem. If he showed a preference for winter it was only because watching snow falling through the kitchen window was his version of an Imax movie. Inside it was always the same.

The Beast often considered taking up the life of a Ming dynasty gentleman of leisure and spend his days composing haiku about the snow. Unfortunately, unlike the Eskimos who are said to have several hundred words for snow, cats, because it isn't an edible substance, have none. They do, however, have several thousand descriptive phrases for food.

Blight In August

The Fur Starts Frying

The first warning should have come when the bakery moved into the storefront below. All day and all night their ovens would be going, filling the air with the delightful smell of apple turnovers and fresh rye bread. The Beast thought that he had found a subject worthy of his poetic muse. Unfortunately, the Beast had ensconced himself on the top floor of the apartment building, which, while it afforded a lovely view of such things as falling snow also served as the bottlecap for all the heat that was rising up through the building and settling in his little corner of the world.

Trouble In Paradise

The came the summer of 1999 and days upon weeks upon months of ninety and one hundred degree days the likes of which the Beast had not encountered in his short and event-free life. Temperatures that soon made a mockery of the small window air conditioner the people he allowed to share his apartment had set up to battle the elements. And then one fateful day they not only neglected to leave it cranking when they left in the morning but someone left the toilet seat down.

Not A Happy Camper

If he had possessed the energy many ankles would have been bitten and many legs would have been scratched that evening when his roommates came home. As it was it took all of his crying to get them to lift the seat for him, where he let go of his normal dislike of water to dunk his poor fur covered cranium. For the remainder of the evening he remained stretched out in the cool confines of the bathtub, his at anyone who even thought about using the room for anything but offering apologies.

Lessons To Be Learned

The monthly electric bills rival the gross national product of many smaller European countries but the air conditioner now remains switched on and set on ten twenty-four hours a day, the toilet seat cover has been removed from it's hinges and as an offer of condolence the Beast now goes to sleep with his head resting on a snowglobe from the 1964/65 World's Fair at Flushing Meadow. The Beast may occasionally feel a bit of a chill, but he isn't about to let on.

So let this be a lesson to us all to watch after our furry companions during extremes in temperature. If for no other reason take the example of the Beast to heart and don't leave your critters locked inside automobiles on hot days, or any sort of day if they know how to drive stick. To this day the Beast is still trying to catch up on all of the naps he missed being passed out on the floor. ...Back to Front...